Setting for My Books

As you can guess from the covers of my books shown here, the stories are set in country life (in which Kelly, the border collie plays a significant role) and in the thoroughbred horse-racing business. These are the worlds I know quite a lot about - although horses keep you humble - I continue to learn every day.
There are many ups and downs.
We have a three-year-old called George, who did poorly in training last year, so came home early and didn't race.
We decided we'd give him a head-start this year and send him for preliminary training in Florida - a big step for us. At the beginning of January, two days before we'd arranged for him to leave, he got into trouble in his stall and demolished a wooden wall (we don't know what happened). His injuries were serious including a fractured jaw, cracked gum, broken hyoid apparatus (supports tongue and larynx), chunks of his lower leg missing (one was the size of a tea-cup). We were in shock.
The snow was bad. The vet got stuck. Transport was hard to find. But we finally got him to the equine hospital at Guelph University. There was little they could do - he needed TLC and time.
At first he wouldn't eat, but things gradually improved. He loved having four small meals a day along with his grated carrots. Then the bandages could be left off. He got stronger. We regained hope that perhaps he could go back into training at Woodbine one day.
Sure enough, he went back on April 25. But it was a slow start. Nevertheless, we all decided to be patient. He had been through so much.
And yesterday he ran his first race and came third. I don't think we've ever been so pleased with a third place before. I'm posting the video on the page "Wins at Woodbine Racetrack" - even though it's not a win. His racing name is I'm a Home Brew, he's number 4 and has white blinkers, and he's the only one who's not raced before ("maiden" means having not won a race). Wins at Woodbine Racetrack Page Yeah, George!!
Perhaps this will give you a taste of the setting that I enjoy to write in and why. Hope you have fun reading my books.
See you at the launch on Saturday, October 13, 2pm to 4pm, Blue Heron Books.

Book Launch! Save the Date!

You're invited! The exciting launch of my second book in the Meg Sheppard mystery series will be:

On:     Saturday, October 13, 2018
       2pm until 4pm
At:     Blue Heron Books, Uxbridge

My first book, "What Happened to Frank?" will also be available.
I hope to meet current fans of the Meg Sheppard series as well as new readers!

Stay posted. There will be more information coming. (Sign up to receive email notifications of new posts by clicking on "follow by email" at vickyearleauthor.blogspot.ca).
Information on Blue Heron books can be found at: blueheronbooks.com

Two New Micro-Stories and One Micro-Non-Fiction Piece!

These short pieces were each written during a meeting of the Uxbridge Writers' Circle as part of the "ten-minute on-the-spot" writing segment. We can use the photos provided or we can just write what we like. No editing!
Then we share!

The first one is based on the picture "Grandpa and Me Ice Skating" by Norman Rockwell:

Grandpa was a boring old man with white whiskers and deep wrinkles. He sat in his recliner and it seemed to me that he spent more time snoring than he did talking. He must have had so much he could tell us about, so many interesting things, but we didn't hear any of it.
But he was the best Grandpa in the whole wide world when we went skating. Somehow his stiff body would unwind and energy seemed to travel from his toque to his toes. His scarf would fly around this way and that as he spun and twirled. He skated backwards at an atrocious speed, often barely missing us.
We would watch in awe, the cold seeping and creeping, until we realized we hadn't moved for several minutes as we watched his show.
One afternoon, as he untied his skates, I plucked up the courage to ask him how he learned to skate like that.
"Ah, I was a hockey player many, many years ago."
"Wow. With the NHL?" I asked.
"Yep."
"That must have been the best."
"It was okay, but we didn't wear helmets like your Mom makes you wear."
"I'd like not to wear one."
"You could hit your head on the ice and end up like me."
So, I always wear my helmet. I don't want to get wrinkles like my Grandpa.

Vicky Earle Copyright 2018

The second one is non-fiction about our foal, Chase, who was born on May 15, 2018.

We watch as the foal kicks up his heels, bucks and then canters around the patchy green field, almost colliding with his mother. She ignores his display, making the best of her time outside to graze, seeking out the blades of grass in between a myriad of weeds.
The two-month-old colt takes a nip out of the man repairing the fence - as he does, he shows off the scrape he gave himself as he pranced by the loose oak plank. The man pats him on the rump and tells him to go away. The colt's answer is to rear and then tear off to the other side of the paddock and stick his muzzle onto my husband's phone as he attempts to capture the antics of the new member of the family.
Our grandsons have named him Chase and we can already imagine him flying out of the starting gate and crossing the finishing line. With each new arrival there is excitement and optimism. Breeding, raising and racing thoroughbreds is fraught with set-backs and liberally scattered with disappointments, and we've had our share. But, for the moment, we're wallowing in the pleasure of watching Chase enjoying life. Every buck and every dash bring smiles, and makes everything seem worthwhile.
Photo: Chase with his mother, I'm a Kittyhawk. Taken by Vicky Earle. 

Vicky Earle Copyright 2018

The third one is based on a photo of a cat with the caption "Missing You".


Beluga, the fat grey cat, sat on the windowsill - looking much like an overstuffed furry pillow with whiskers - and watched the family leave for the cottage again. Looking at him, one couldn't see the frown on his face but the fury flashed in his eyes and twitched along his whiskers. They had left him alone once too often and he was going to show them.
He thought of the big plan as he sat staring at the chickadee which looked far too cheerful. But, since he couldn't reach him, he closed his eyes and focused on the plan.
He woke up with a start as the grandfather clock struck. He must have had a nap. He stretched, yawned, landed with a thud on the wooden floor and waddled to his food dish. Just that foul dry food awaited him. Where was the fresh fish? Beluga remembered he'd been left again and recalled the great plan.
The first thing on the list was to leave grey hair liberally spread on Anne's new white bedspread. He lapped at the water which was lukewarm, not cold how he liked it, and then heaved himself up the stairs. The bounce had gone out of his steps. He clawed his way up the side of the bed, hanging onto the bedspread. He was exhausted, and curled up in a dip between the pillows and fell asleep.
"Beluga!" Jenny called. "We're home!"
The great plan was put on hold again.

Vicky Earle Copyright 2018